Past Demons
by toujourspret
Summary: 3x4--Major warnings for child abuse! Trowa's got a few demons to work out, but is he doing it at the expense of t;he others around him? Yet another sappy 3x4, and quite possibly one of the only fics where the mercs didn't rape Trowa.


Past Demons  
---  
by rinoastar  
---  
  
  
AC 188  
--  
  
A young boy stumbled out of a gray tent into the dismal  
morning of the Southwest United States. He pulled a shirt down  
over his bare torso, but not before a long, red welt was visible.  
The boy sniffled and ran to a green army tent to make breakfast  
before the other people could wake up.  
The boy knelt next to a stone circle and started a small  
fire. Its heat and light brought small comfort to him, but did  
little to soothe his icy soul. He instinctively looked up to   
see a tall man exit the tent from which he had come. The man  
bore a rawhide riding crop and slapped it into his palm.   
"You overslept, Nanashi. That's worth twenty licks by   
itself. You woke me up, too, " the man sneered coldly. He was  
handsome, in a European way, but thick-set. The crop in his hand   
made sharp sounds as he brought it down.  
"Gomen ne, Aki-san, " the boy murmured, knowing what  
the man wanted to hear.   
"Sorry's not good enough, " the man jeered. "C'mere. "  
Nanashi, as he called the little boy, no name, obediently  
approached him. The man bid the boy pull his shirt over his head  
and wait. Lines of fire began to slither down his back. The boy  
cried silently into the folds of his thin shirt. Before long,   
he could feel slick wetness sting in his aching wounds.   
Nanashi knew better than to cry out loud. The man wanted   
to hear him cry, though. When he cried, he could hit him harder.  
'I'll *make* you cry, Nanashi, ' the man would chuckle.  
Just before the world began to flicker in and out, Nanashi  
looked up to see a Nordic boy running out of a tent. "What the  
hell's going on? Kill Nanashi day?"  
"Mind your own business, rich boy. Just because Dekim is  
supporting this group gives you no right to meddle!" Nanashi's  
abuser snapped.  
"Funny, I always thought it did, " the blonde boy replied.  
"Now get going. I don't want to see you raising another hand to   
him, ever. "  
Hesitantly, the man retreated, muttering rebelliously,   
"Damn Bartons. Just because they've got money, they think they run   
everybody. "  
The blonde, Nanashi's savior, knelt by his side. "Are you   
okay?" he asked. Nanashi nodded and pushed himself up. His shirt  
stung from his beating and he could feel the blood already seeping  
through the thin material. "If that guy gives you any grief over  
what just happened, just call for me. Trowa Barton. "  
---  
  
  
AC 195  
--  
  
The boy now known as Trowa Barton calmly brushed his long   
bang from his eyes. Nearby, Duo was busy making fun of their   
notes. The five of them had been assigned yet another undercover  
mission, thankfully arriving in time for a fresh school year.   
That way, three or more of them could sneak in, with no   
crossdressing or false family connections. They could just be   
a group of new students that had banded together.  
Duo was loudly berating a diagram of a neuron that he had   
drawn for biology. "It looks like a *sperm cell*!!" he protested  
loudly.   
"Hentai no baka!" Wufei scornfully waved his own diagram  
back. "If you wouldn't draw it that way, it wouldn't!"  
Trowa spared a glance at his fellow pilots. Hiiro had his  
head buried under a book fort, studying maps. Duo was waving his   
diagram in Wufei's face. Wufei was scrunching his nose up in   
distaste, trying to avoid being hit by it. Quatre was blushing,   
up to his ears in homework. He looked back at Trowa and frowned  
slightly.   
"Trowa-san? Daijoubu desu ka?" Quatre's worried expression  
peered almost comically over an atlas. Trowa winked.  
"Hai, hai. Daijoubu, " Trowa replied. Quatre's concern   
did not fade, but he turned back to his worksheets on ancient   
Earth.  
"Hn. Whatever you say, " Quatre hunched over the papers.  
Trowa heard the disappointment in his voice. He watched the smaller  
boy work before turning back to his own geometry.   
---  
  
  
AC 190  
--  
  
Nanashi worked very hard to clean out the guns properly. It  
was hard on the ten year old to be the youngest worker in the militia.  
His treatment had only gone downhill from before. Although Aki didn't   
bother him anymore, others did. They were meaner, and Trowa couldn't   
protect him all of the time. In fact, sometimes Trowa sided with the  
others. Whenever Nanashi was being punished for doing something wrong,  
Trowa would sit back and say, 'Well, you should have done it right. '  
Trowa was his guardian angel. He would help him with his work  
sometimes, and help him escape punishment others. Nanashi would watch  
in wonder as Trowa played his flute. He wanted to learn that, to play  
what was on his mind. One day Trowa offered to teach him.  
Nanashi practiced very hard every day. He even surpassed Trowa  
in skill. All of the music he played was slow and melancholy. He even   
wrote a few songs. Trowa was appreciative of his music, and they often   
played together.  
"Nanashi, why do you play so many sad songs?" Trowa asked the   
quiet boy. Nanashi shrugged in response. "Was your life so bad?"  
" . . . . . . . " Nanashi frowned. He lifted the flute to   
his lips to play again.   
Trowa gently pushed the flute down and kissed him hard.   
Nanashi gasped with suprise and froze. Finally gathering his wits,   
Nanashi shoved Trowa away. Trowa's chest heaved and he stared down at   
the flute between them. "Nanashi . . . " he started. Nanashi dropped   
the flute and ran out of the tent.  
---  
  
  
AC 195  
--  
  
Trowa leaned against the door as Quatre played a rich melody   
on his violin. The airy notes danced across the room, inviting him  
to come out from his hiding. Quatre noticed him, and looked at him  
from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Trowa knew the blonde  
was upset with him, but he didn't know what to do. His mind flitted  
back to stolen kisses of his childhood, and the hurt they had caused.  
He didn't want to expose Quatre to that.  
He barely noticed when Quatre drew the bow across the strings  
for the last note, he was so lost in his thoughts. The Arabic boy  
strode over to him. Quatre waved a hand in front of Trowa's face.  
"Hello? Are you in there?" he snapped his fingers. Trowa blinked   
and looked down at the boy. "Finally. We need to talk. "  
"Yes, we do, " Trowa replied. He took the other boy's hand  
and led him to the piano bench in the middle of the room.  
"So, " Quatre murmured. He had suddely turned shy, watching  
his nervous hands twist in his lap. Bright eyes turned upward and   
captured Trowa's gaze, imploring deep below the surface.  
"So, " Trowa repeated, lost for words. Quatre's eyes held   
him paralyzed, and he could see the hope in the sea of them. He knew  
he couldn't crush that hope.  
"Trowa, what's wrong with you?! You're more withdrawn from us  
than usual, and it's like you don't want to be with us, " Quatre burst  
out suddenly. Trowa winced at the unspoken 'me' at the end. Quatre   
was watching with over-bright eyes, as if he were going to cry.  
"That's not it. I . . . " Trowa began, looking away.  
"You what?" Quatre interrupted in a small voice. "You can't  
live alone, Trowa. You have to tell somebody something. "  
"My name isn't Trowa, " Trowa admitted finally. A moment of  
silence filled the room with a stuffy air.  
"What?" Quatre asked.  
"My name isn't Trowa, " he repeated.  
"What is it?" Quatre meekly asked.  
"I don't have a name. They always called me that. No Name, "  
Trowa ran a finger across a delicate ivory key. "Namae Nashi.   
Nanashi, for short. "  
"Who's 'They' ?" Quatre gently covered Trowa's hand with one  
of his own.  
---  
  
  
AC 194  
--  
  
Trowa never brought up what had happened between them. Nansahi  
was thankful, in a way, because he didn't have to face the other boy  
with that on his mind. Still, they weren't as close as they had been   
before, and both of them knew that they never would be.  
One day, the scientist Trowa's father, Dekim, had hired called  
him into the labratory. They fought and Trowa threatened to have him  
fired. Nanashi watched from the shadows, silent as always. In a way,   
he was like a shadow, tall, thin, and barely there.   
The scientist pulled out a gun shortly after the comment about  
having him fired. All it took was one shot. Trowa died before he hit  
the ground. Nanashi watched in horror as the scientist was joined by   
some other scientists.   
"Way to go, S. You just killed your pilot. Now who is going  
to pilot HeavyArms in Opertaion Meteor?" a strange looking scientist   
with goggles that looked like mechanical eyes said.  
Nanashi knew what had to be done. "I'll do it, " he said,  
stepping out of the shadows, leaving the broom he had been using   
behind him. "I'll take his name and work in Operation Meteor. "  
"Who are you?" Doktor S. asked suspiciously.  
"Nanashi. I have been working on the mecha for the past two  
months. I know more about it than even Trowa did, " Nanashi said  
quietly.  
"Nanashi, huh?" Doktor S. smiled an evil looking smile.  
"Fine. You will become Trowa Barton. You will pilot HeavyArms, and  
Operation Meteor will go on as planned. "  
Nanashi, now Trowa, nodded. He pulled a rag out of the pocket  
of his old uniform and began to quietly polish HeavyArms.  
Doktor S. smirked. "You, boy! You have only a little while   
to train! Get over here and we will begin. "  
---  
  
  
AC 195  
--  
  
Trowa and Quatre sat in silence for a while after Trowa had   
finished his story. Finally, Quatre placed a comforting hand on   
Trowa's arm.  
"I didn't mean to bring something like that up, " he said  
softly. Trowa shook his head and covered the tiny hand with his own.  
"You didn't. I was thinking about it and that's why I was so  
distant, " he replied. Before he knew what was happening, he felt   
soft lips on his hand. Trowa's head jerked up and he looked at Quatre.  
"I-I'm sorry, " Quatre blushed, pulling away. He shuddered   
as he stood up, as if his legs couldn't support his weight. Trowa   
reached a helpful hand up to him, but the other boy just turned and   
left the room.  
'Damn, ' Trowa thought to himself. 'I can't believe I just   
had that chance and blew it. ' He ran his hand through his bangs and  
slammed his fist into his palm. 'I have to explain it to him. '  
He raced through the safehouse, looking for the other boy.  
His mind and heart raced along with him, thumping painfully in his   
throat and trying to cut off his air. Trowa's eyes frantically scanned  
the house. His angel was nowhere to be found. Dejected, he headed   
outside to take a walk and berate himself.  
Trowa wrapped himself up in his thick jacket, a gift from   
Katherine. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets and walked   
outside. As he walked, he noticed a tiny sound and shiny patch of  
moonlight just off of the path.  
His heart sank as he headed over to it. He knew it was his   
angel, crying over his rejection. Trowa knelt next to the boy and   
gently touched his cheek. Quatre looked up at him, his eyes liquid  
pools of pain.  
"Trowa!" he tried to hide his face behind his sleeve, but a   
wracking sob tore through him before he could. Trowa gathered the   
small blonde into his arms and held him close. He closed his eyes   
and savored the moment.  
"Quatre, " he murmured softly. "I didn't mean to upset you. "  
"I set myself up for it. I shouldn't have kissed you, " the   
sobbing boy replied, his shaking easing a bit. Trowa stroked his   
shining platinum hair.  
"No, Quatre, " Trowa chanted like a mantra, gently rocking   
him in his arms. "I was going to kiss you, " he whispered delicately  
into the shell of his ear. The small boy looked up at him with wide,  
teary, liquid eyes.   
"Really?" Quatre breathed, his words barely heard. Trowa   
said nothing but cupped his cheek in his palm. The Arabian's thick,   
light lashes fluttered over his cheeks seconds before the Latino's   
gentle lips covered his own. Strong arms wrapped the fragile looking  
boy tightly and held him tight.  
"Katoru, " Trowa's lashes played with the shadows outside,   
making them look incredibly long. Quatre's thin fingers reached up  
to touch them and were surprised to find moisture in the corners of his   
eyes.  
"I'll protect you, Torowa. You'll never have to go through   
what you did ever again, " Quatre said bravely, all the while tugging  
the lapels of Trowa's jacket closer to him. Trowa noticed this and   
chuckled.  
"Are you cold, Ichibi?" he tucked the tiny blonde under his   
chin.  
"Not really. Your love keeps me warm, " Quatre kissed the   
neck so close to his face. Thinking a bit, he added, "It's almost as  
warm as the desert sun. " Trowa smiled and gathered him into his arms  
and carried him inside. 


End file.
